Where's MY Calm-Down Card?

I have all these great ideas, and no one they work with.

Since spring, I've had to restrict Princess's world smaller and smaller, keeping her closer and closer to me. She's been going 0 to 120 in under a second and hitting or bludgeoning siblings with very little warning, in addition to the bus incident and shouting in the gym teacher's face. I now need her withing hearing distance so that I can catch things going south quickly, which means no girls' room, no basement, and no outside when I'm not there and other kids are. Josh or I are outside plenty every day, but this one is still a particular thorn in Princess's paw.

At the same time, I've been focusing on encouraging her to use her Calm-Down Card. So last night I though, huh; I could pair them together.

This morning I explained that YAY! I thought of a way she could earn some time outside with other kids and no me! Every time Daddy or I tell her to use her calm-down card, and she does, she can have 15 minutes of other-kid-outside-time. Isn't that GREAT?

Princess sure thought it was. She immediately grabbed her calm-down card off the fridge and started to run down the steps.

Um. Princess? So...who told you to use your calm-down card?
But you said if I use it I get time outside with the other kids.
I said if you use it when Daddy or I tells you to you earn time outside with the other kids.
Oh.

And she went back to running the steps on the card.

Princess. Who told you to use the card?
No one.
Ok. I think you should grab a paper and a pencil. I think you need some help remembering this.


She came back with lined paper and a marker. I recited the conditions. Twice. She wrote them in hot pink marker completely ignoring the lines on the page. When I had her read it back to me, she got as far as word three before she was stumped.

Hey Princess. What do you think the lines on the page are for?
To write on?
Right. So I bet it would be pretty helpful to write ON them, don't you think? Try that.

So she did. Twice.

Honey, do you think it's the marker that's the problem, or your handwriting?
My handwriting.
Ok, then you'll need to write it again, but neatly, because you'll need to be able to read this when if we have a disagreement about it later.

Again.

Get a new paper and a pen or pencil.


So it was written and read successfully.

So now can I go outside?
Uh....the Cuddle Bear is out there right now- how many minutes have you earned, honey?
None?
Yeeeeah.
So can I go outside?
Um, no.
REEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!
Go use your calm-down card.

So she sat down on the steps. A few moments later the noise started up again.

I see you're not using your calm-down card, so you'll need to go finish that noise in your room.

The typical room-scream fest insued, followed by the quiet formal Time Out, and I released Princess to "do over."

So can I go outside?
???
You told me to do my calm-down card.
Yes, well, but the whole DOING of the calm-down card was missing, and that's kind of the whole thing behind earning Time Outside With Kids.
Oh. Ok.

And she began to run down the calm-down card steps.

Ok! I'm done! Can I go outside?

Seriously, I'll spare you, because this happened twice more with negative-forty calm-down card usage. By 9:30 a.m. I was banging my head on the table trying to hold back tears as to not upset Buddy who was verbalizing his desire to not have to listen to this crap all the time as Josh prepared to leave for work earlier than he had intended because listening to all of this was actually putting him backward in what he needed to accomplish.

Did I mention my Suburban is in the shop? Since Monday night until Friday afternoon? Yep, that's right- I cannot leave. Oh, and by some disgusting slap in the face of fate, Josh has extra stuff after work several nights this week and has to show our old house to several prospective tenants. Fabulous life timing. Plus the thing he's going to tonight has great food and great wine and great people and every year everyone says, "you should bring your wife," but his wife is not fit to be seen because she keeps breaking out in hives and is missing chunks of her hair.

On the bright side, I have plenty of time to pound the calm-down card. Excuse me while I go use it myself.

Idea Box Ideas

Here is a semi-condensed list of the Ideas in Princess's Idea Box. Keep in mind she is seven chronologicaly and about four emotionally. I generated the card by thinking of things she likes to do and things I would like to be easier for her. Guess which ones she picks more often. Yep! So here they are:

Story Starters

*Write a story about...
   Jorge
   something that happened in first grade
   Buddy/Peanut/the Cuddle Bear/Mom/Dad
   your birthday party
   a time you felt mad/happy/worried/excited/sad
   something you did in Daisy Girl Scouts
   something you did with K
   Read your Journey Book (Girl Scouts) and answer some questions

Arts and Crafts

*Draw a picture of...
   swimming in a pool
   a day at the beach
   your favorite thing to do with Mom/Dad
   playing in the sprinkler
   going shopping
   a camping trip
   going fishing
*Work on your weaving loom
*Use your Aqua Dots



















*Make a meal/cookies/ocean of sea creatures with playdough
*Use foam stickers to make a critter
*Ask Mom to do your I Am Special card
(this was the brain child of Dr. S. The card has four statements: "I am smart! I am special! I am successful! I am somebody!" I put a Skittle on each sentence for the child to eat after they've said it. This becomes really fun after your children have done it for a while, because they will chant it in the ophthalmologist's office while one child is having her eye tests done, causing the staff to wonder if you run a small cult)

Pretend Play/Toys

*Put on "make up" and change your hair
*Build a house with Legos
*Pretend a baby doll needs to go to the doctor
*Play:
   "going out for ice cream" with Playmobils
   "haircuts" with Ponies
   "pizza party" with Ponies
   "wedding" with Playmobils
*Dress your dolls and give one a birthday party
*Make a puppet show

Outdoor

*Swing
*See how many times you can jump rope/skip ball without missing. Tell Mom your best one
*Ride your bike
*Fill the wagon with bark. Dump it in the garden
*Run three laps around the garden
*Spread Hyperdash out far. See what your best time is














*Jump 50 times on the trampoline. See how high you can go
*Dig a deep hole in the sandbox
*Draw hopscotch. Play it.


So, with any luck, it'll keep her busy for the summer

Mom=Genius

I am a super-genius, and here is why:

When we transitioned into school the past fall, Princess completely came unraveled after school. She'd pace around the kitchen driving me nutso for a half-hour, and follow it up by picking fights for the rest of the evening. I guessed it was too much unstructured time, so I bought some table activities (playdoh, lite brite, barrel of monkeys, etc.) that were only for me to give. After the half-hour pacing session, I sat her at the table (because I was nearby) and switched out activities every fifteen minutes. We worked up to choices, then finally to (relatively) free choice by the end of October.

It was with this in mind that I approached the first week of summer. I bought a small file box and spent an unspeakable amount of time writing ideas on color-coded cards (outside, writing, art, imaginative -oh! the horror!). I set the box on the counter and told Princess, "you can use one whenever you want," which is true, but I also send her to it when I see her pacing, when her voice gets loud and brassy, or when her personality changes after not getting something she wants (like one gumdrop. For an example that may or may not have occurred five minutes ago).

This was such a brilliant idea. And, like most of my brilliant ideas, I had no idea whatsoever how fabulous it was going to be.

See, that's the problem. Well, maybe not THE problem. Anyway. I never, ever, never can even take a stab at how well something will work until I try it. I have had the most dismal failures you can possibly imagine from the most intricate planning you can imagine. And wild successes that left me shaking my head saying, "was that all? Why didn't I do that before? What the heck took me so long to come up with that?

I'm haunted at night by a horrible fear that complete healing will be a result of something like breathing out of one nostril at a time instead of two. All this work? For all these years? And it was just a nostril?

But then, I guess I can be thankful for nostril-induced progress, too.

Stranger Than Fiction

I was reading a book, a fiction book, about almost nothing to do with parenting, solely because I liked it, when I ran across a line where one character had another character finish her sentence.
And I thought, hmmmm, and I stored it away in the dark recesses of my brain for later use.

I've been noticing lately that, although Princess really doesn't initiate conversation with me all that much, she is guaranteed to feel a desperate need for mother-daughter connection if I'm talking to someone else, particularly a girlfriend. Today after church I was catching up with a woman I haven't gotten to talk to in a while when I felt the familiar taptaptap on my arm.

"Yes, Princess?"
"Can I have some juice?"

Our church has juice and donuts in the gathering area, and every. single. week our children have a donut and a glass of juice. They do not ask, they just go get it. They are allowed to and they know it. I lean down.

"Princess, you asked me a question you know the answer to so you could interrupt. Go sit down by your brother and sisters."

And I resumed my conversation. Later I sat down across from her, cris-cross-applesauce knees touching, and I tried it out.

Me: "You asked me for juice while I was talking because...."
Princess: "I wanted the answer."
Me: "You knew the answer and you interrupted to ask me anyway because..."
Princess: "What?"
M: (Patient Smile)
P: "I wanted juice."
M: "You knew you could have juice and you interrupted to ask me anyway because..."
P: "Aaaarhugh! Because I wanted you and her to stop talking and look at me instead."

Bingo.

M: "Well good news, Princess, because now is the time for you to have all my attention!"
P: "But the juice is gone now!"
M: "It is."
P: "Can I have a drink?"
M: "You want to use my attention to ask for drinks."
P: "But I don't have any more questions!"
M: "You don't have any more questions, but you do have all my attention for a little while."

Big toothy grin. From me, of course. This is where Princess tried to get away from me, so I pulled my seven-year-old in my lap while she flailed around in the church gathering area. I kept going after eye-contact, so she covered my eyes. I kept smiling. She couldn't resist, of course, so every few seconds she would lift a finger to see if I was still looking at her (I was), and I'd shout "peek-a-boo!" She grouched at first, but soon she started giggling. We played for a while, then walked out to the car. Fully regulated.

So much for the parenting books.

The Calm Down Card

Here is another of Mrs. M's little useful bits: The Calm Down Card.

Princess has a hard time processing what's said to her, and it's even more difficult when she's upset. You've got about three words before you're tuned out, and maybe not even that; she often uses screaming as a way to not have to listen. The first few times I used the card, I actually chased her around the house tapping on a picture repeating, "what comes next, Princess? What comes next?" But now it almost works like magic to help her regulate herself in a way that trying to reach her with words never would.

Yesterday afternoon Princess got out the Memory game, so I casually hovered nearby. Memory has gotten much easier for Princess, but competition brings on anxiety. I believe Princess has a deep level of shame going on. Not guilt. I have rarely seen her express guilt. Shame is different; shame says "I am fundamentally bad and nothing can make me good." So making a mistake, or not winning, or anything other than utter victory reinforces this feeling, which she expressing by attempting to make someone near her feel as bad as she does. Or so I hypothesize. I can't know for sure. She is not what one would call "a good sport." If she's winning she gloats and taunts; if she's losing, everyone will eventually pay. She's not being mean or thoughtless--I think it's a kind of defense mechinism or way of coping of maybe just lack of empathy. Anyway, I stick close when the games come out.

Princess got the Cuddle Bear to play with her. The Cuddle Bear might only be three, but she happens to be a total whiz at Memory, which probably didn't make things easier. Princess got louder and more chipper and bouncier and more rhythmic as the game progressed (and the Cuddle Bear acquired more matches): warning signs that it's going down. Then an argument developed about whether a certain card had a match. I knew the Cuddle Bear was right. If she says a card has a match (or doesn't), you'd better believe she knows what she's talking about. When the Cuddle Bear proved up, Princess's whole demeanor changed. She growled, "so?" and suddenly cards were being thrown from all sides. I rushed to step in, but without any warning Princess shoved the Cuddle Bear HARD into the computer desk. I said, "time-out; seven minutes," and marched her unwilling self up the steps. I checked out the Cuddle Bear, and then started to think about what should happen next.

When the timer went off I grabbed the Calm Down Card and headed upstairs. Normally a time-out does nothing whatsoever to regulate Princess. I use it mainly as a way to get her out of the situation while I figure out how to handle it. This was no different. Princess scowled at me over the books (not hers, of course) on her bed. I held up the card, pointed at "5 deep breaths," and said, "what comes next." She did all the steps without complaint, and I could see she was regulated. Her expression was neutral, her body was relaxed, and she wasn't saying anything about how unfair everything is. I told her to pick up the game, which she did before going on to something else entirely.

Yay for the Calm Down Card.

Who's Got Your Back?

Back when Princess was having a lot of trouble with sequencing in general and predicting her schedule in particular, one of my favorite people, Mrs. M- Princess's language processing teacher- made this:








Isn't that clever?

When Mrs. M. heard about my recent brain seepage, she got even more clever.








Isn't that great? In fact, I put it up right underneath Princess's. Mrs. M thought of EVERYTHING: the dentist, soccer, school... I won't ever be able to forget anything again. She even thought to include this:







...and, better yet, this:








So who do YOU have out there working to make you laugh? Think about it. Because you need them.


Thanks, Mrs. M.

OT and the Woodpile

Yesterday, kindergarten was taught by a substitute. Thankfully, Peanut is now able to manage herself at school in the care of a sub. As opposed to the principal and myself wrestling a screaming, writhing mass of teeth and nails into my Suburban mid-day. This is still very, very hard on her, though, and she has a tendency to let it all loose when she gets home. Yesterday, she wanted immediately on a computer program, then accused me (with opera-worthy wailing) of putting her in the wrong spot in the program. I tried to show her how to navigate to where she wanted to be, but she kept interrupting to tell me why my ideas wouldn't work. Then she logged it off and went wailing and stomping to her room, kiddie-cursing me all the way. When she came down, she followed me room to room and waiting for me to look at her so she could give me the evil eye. I said, "you want me to notice you are angry at me." She exploded, "yeah, cause..." and went right back into her argument. I said, "I'm sorry you would not let me help you. Now you can choose to stay with me quietly, or to go into another room." She went into the living room, where she found a kalediscope (that has been sitting in the bottom of the toy box for two or three years without having ever been touched) taken apart and scattered on the floor. Enter more wailing and moaning and gnashing of teeth. It really was very dramatic; I have to give her credit.

I dropped the ball with this one, but thankfully Josh is pretty good at this whole parenting thing himself. He sent her to the woodpile.

I love consequences that not only don't really feel like a consequence, but accomplish something, too. And the wood pile is dual-duty. Thing one: stacking firewood by the house used to be my job. Thing two: stacking wood is "heavy work."

Both Princess and Peanut have sensory dysfunction. The best way I can describe it is they don't seem to be able to pinpoint where their body is in space. They kind of feel like they're floating around, not connected to anything. When their anxiety rises, they become "disregulated." Princess manifests this by wandering room to room, spinning, rhythmless dancing, and tapping and noise-making. Peanut sticks her finger in her mouth, chews on things, talks louder and faster while making less sense, and wails. "Heavy work" causes their large muscles to work together and kind of gives them a "center." And they feel calmer.

Lucky for me, a lot of housework can easily be made into "heavy work." Princess lugs a big rubbermaid container full of clothing to and from the laundry room. Peanut wipes the table after dinner. They pick up the sofa cushions so I can vacuum underneath. They make their beds. Gardening, wheel-barrows, wagons, and pushing against a wall all work, too.

(But the best stuff is the stuff I don't have to do).